


Underneath the Mask

by cdra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Djeeta Doms Everyone, Djeeta Is Poly With Everyone, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Gentle Dom, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: Now that Gawain isn't being quite so prickly, Djeeta decides it's time to finally "induct him into the crew"... in that way that Djeeta does.[Kinktober 2019 Day 1 - Face-sitting & Masks (kinda)]





	Underneath the Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompts were Deep-Throating | Cum Inflation | Face-Sitting | Masks, and I tried to play 3/4 bingo but ended up just using masks as a Thematic Element and the deep-throating sorta didn't happen (but it's referenced, for what it's worth). Originally, I planned to get Gawain facefucked because he deserves it, but then this got kinda soft instead? Because I guess?
> 
> Djeeta is most DEFINITELY not 15 here, or as I write her ever. She's closer to 20-21, and also she's poly with the whole crew and pretty much doms them all because femdom rights.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Gawain has changed since they first met, when his mask obscured his hardened eyes and his words were nothing but short and harsh. Djeeta likes him better as he is now—still prickly around the edges, his words proud and harsh, but softer, with his beautiful green eyes clearly visible without the mask that once clung to his skin like rust.

Yes, beautiful—he’s come so far, his heart polished and clear now, and the young captain certainly finds him beautiful. And when she collects something so lovely into her crew, well… she can’t help but want to play with them a bit.

“Meet me in my quarters tonight,” she tells him after today’s mission is won, with a flirty little touch to his upper arm and a mischievous glint in her eyes—her smirk is concealed by the mask she wears over the lower half of her face. Clueless, Gawain blinks at her like he’s never had a woman make an advance on him; maybe he never has. Maybe he’s always been the kind of guy to push girls around and get his way. He certainly isn’t now, though; now, he agrees with a bit of uncertainty on his tongue, brows raised like he knows what she’s getting at, but finds it difficult to believe.

But everyone on the Grancypher knows, by now, what it means when the captain asks someone to “visit her quarters”—Lecia and Monica give each other knowing looks and giggle as Djeeta walks away, leaving Gawain to stare blankly at Djeeta’s back as she strolls off to collect the spoils of their victory.

Gawain shows up that night like clockwork, his blond hair tousled and damp from the showers. He looks so _different_ without the cursed red armor he’d been trapped in for so long, clad in a loose white top and simple trousers—he frowns tersely at Djeeta whens he stares. “What? Is it that strange?”

Djeeta giggles behind her mask; she’d been too busy to remove her battle attire in full, but she makes it work, armor removed to reveal only red stockings and black gloves and some slight excuse for a shirt. “You just look so much... smaller, without all that armor on.” She sees him bristle, but she gives a little flick of her wrist as she explains. “More approachable, too. Like a big, cuddly—”

Gawain pushes his hair back and clears his throat loudly. “Get to the point, Captain. What did you call me here for?” Ever the pragmatist, his voice is stern and certain—expectant.

She gets up and walks toward him, her steps graceful and controlled. She reaches up to touch his face; he flinches, but he doesn’t balk. “I got to thinking today… You’re much more handsome when I can see your face,” she purrs as her thumb ghosts over his cheekbone. “And as long as you’ve been here, I haven’t had a chance to proposition you, you know? So…” She tests her boundaries, edges just a bit closer; she leans forward until their chests meet (though, he’s so tall that her breasts rest closer to his waist) and pulls her mask down before draping her other arm over his shoulder. “What do you say we fix that, and get you properly inducted into the crew, Gawain?”

Green eyes blink once, twice, like they can’t quite read her grin to know if they should believe all this. He doesn’t pull away; his hand settles on her exposed hip instead. “You’re a strange one,” he huffs, lips pulling to the side. “But, fine, then. I can’t say I’m opposed, if you’ll have me.” He shifts, like he’s thinking he’ll take the lead, but Djeeta’s having none of it.

“Good! I was hoping you’d agree,” she giggles and takes him by the wrist—Gawain seems startled again, but she pretends not to notice as she pulls him toward the bed.

In a flash he’s seated there, beneath her, with Djeeta’s fingertips at his chest and one knee at his side. “You look like a wind rabbit that’s been pinned by a hunter,” she muses, brows cocked. “Take it easy, tough guy. You follow my lead on the battlefield all the time; this isn’t _ that _different.”

“It’s _ certainly _different,” he intones, confirming her assumptions as his fingers settle against her thigh. “You may be the captain, but you’re still—”

“What, younger than you? A girl?” Gawain’s lips press together as Djeeta flippantly fills in his assumptions. Coming from her, rather than the inside of his head, they sound stupid. “But you trust me, right?” She traces a line down his sternum, over his abdomen, and to his waistband. “So just relax, and leave it to me.”

It shows in his eyes, in a conflicted sort of yearning, how he wants to. He’s still not good at grasping his feelings, or following someone else’s lead, or anything like that—but he remembers what Florence said, about letting himself feel the warmth of others, and as forward as Djeeta is, he can feel that from her even now, in how slowly she moves, how attentively her deep brown eyes stay on his unhidden face.

“...Fine,” he grumbles reluctantly, his palm tensing against the young captain’s bare thigh. “I’ll try.”

“Good enough,” Djeeta muses aloud as she slips her hands under his shirt, revealing his toned and scarred stomach; her fingertips take their time mapping out the texture of his skin, and he fights to keep from shuddering at how gentle it all is. Years trapped under armor have made his skin both sensitive and numb; somehow, the gingerly ghosts of touches light his nerves up faster than any pain could. It’s difficult not to balk at the strangeness of it—but, Gawain did say he would try, and for the captain who stubbornly has called him a friend and ally, try he will.

She’s slow about it, sensing his uncertainty in how his muscles tense at her touch—he doesn’t tell her to stop, though, even closes his eyes for a moment to acclimate to her touch. Djeeta hums quietly as she tugs his shirt upward; obediently, but without looking directly at her, Gawain lifts his arms to let her remove it. Her palms explore his skin, and she notices when his breath catches as her thumbs graze over his nipples.

“Easy, easy,” the captain purrs; she leans closer, so their faces are barely not-touching and Gawain is forced to meet her eyes with red dusted across his cheeks.

“I’m not some child you need to reassure,” he grumbles indignantly, “It’s just… been a long time, is all.”

“I bet,” she breathes in amusement, a little smirk tugging at her lips; her hips settle astride his. “Between your _ stellar _personality, and the fact that you were a walking tin can…”

He growls “shut up” and tangles a hand into her hair—she obliges the light pressure and leans into a lazy kiss. Where Djeeta is used to these sorts of things, to loving and doting on her crewmates, Gawain is stiff with a lack of practice; patiently, she lets her hands rove his form as he adjusts, from his chest to his still-damp hair to the sensitive jut of his hips. He gets a bit bolder, slowly, his hands finding their way around her back to undo her top, coming to gently cup her breasts—his breath catches, but he stays his course, when her tongue glides against his lips like a question.

She rolls her hips in the same line of thought, pressing her hips close to his enough that she can feel his erection straining against his trousers. It’s an answer in and of itself, along with the way his pulse flickers and he gasps, and it brings a grin to Djeeta’s lips. As she pulls away from the kiss, she studies his face; he’s breathing quietly, but heavily, and his skin’s almost as red as his armor. His fingertips press into her hips, unsure yet urgent.

“What do you want to do, Gawain?” her voice is sultry as she asks, her arms draped lazily around his shoulders. “Or rather, what do you want _ me _to do?”

“I thought you were taking the lead,” he quips, raising a brow in such an oddly-defiant way for a man who’s gotten this flushed from just making out a bit that Djeeta has to stifle a laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t even have a plan?”

“I have lots of plans,” Djeeta leans back; his eyes follow her breasts, and she notices it. “But we’ve got a lot more nights to get to them. I don’t think you’re ready for me to blindfold you and fuck your throat just yet, you know?”

He chokes on nothing, and at that, she can’t help but laugh aloud. “And that’s tame, for what I could do with you,” she trills, putting a hand to her cheek as she admires his indignant expression. “But I guess if you want me to pick… I _ do _ want to put this mouth of yours to work.” Her thumb hooks the corner of his mouth as she speaks; his eyes are wide, captivated, and it’s _ such _ a fantastic look for him that she’d _ never _have gotten to see before.

“You’re some kind of demon,” Gawain mutters, the words a bit wet and grainy, “otherwise, there’s no way you could do this to me.”

Djeeta gives a self-satisfied smile and leans close; “You like it, though,” she purrs against the shell of his ear before easing the knight down onto his back. The disgruntled sigh he gives in return is enough of an acknowledgement; her hand slides between his legs, curls around the bulge in his pants experimentally, and she can’t help but revel in the way he hisses.

The bed creaks a bit beneath them as Djeeta shifts her weight; she turns around atop Gawain, settles her hips astride his chest, and casts a glance back at his watchful expression. He seems to get the hint; his hands curl around her thighs once more. “I prefer being able to see your face,” he laments a bit, the confidence returning to his voice, “but I guess this view isn’t so bad.”

Wordlessly, she answers by pulling his waistband down, smallclothes and all, to free his cock; as she purrs her approval, Djeeta also adjusts her own clothing, shifting the tight fabric to the side to reveal her glistening slit. “How about now? I know I’m enjoying _ my _view.” To make her point, her hand curls defly around the base of his shaft; Gawain groans a bit at the touch, and Djeeta supposes that counts as another win.

Her hips shift until her cunt is lined up with his face, expectant and hot; she leaves no room for him to ask questions as to her intentions, yet doesn’t demand anything at all from him. It’s intoxicating, somehow, following her lead with such willing ease, knowing he can trust her with that. Cautiously, Gawain’s tongue laps at Djeeta’s slit, testing the heady taste of it; she hums in approval and lowers her hips a bit as she takes to slowly jerking him off.

“So obedient,” she purrs, and it sounds like nothing but a compliment despite how strange that is, “I like that. You must be really eager to be rewarded…” He furrows his brow and scrunches his nose, but as much as he wants to retort he really _ can’t _when she’s pressed so close to his face, and touching him with such deft, delicate fingers—Gawain’s head is spinning more than he’d like. It’s not worth it, he decides with a small grumble (just to let her know that he’s discontent), and he holds onto her thighs as he works his tongue against her heat.

Her praises are soft, silky things, “yes” and “there” and “good boy” as her hands work his cock and fondle his balls. Here, she realizes he’s not as inexperienced as she’d feared; he knows how to roll his tongue around the stiff bud of her core to earn a shudder and a sigh, and he learns quickly how much he can get away with biting at the crook of her thigh and slipping his tongue between her lips. She rewards his efforts with steadily-quickening strokes, her thumb twisting around the head of his cock, and she knows she’s gotten him just the right way when he moans against her flesh.

“Getting close?” she asks, a bit breathless, but she doesn’t really let up enough to get an answer—the way he twitches in her hand and the flush on his dick says plenty. “You’ve got to get me off first, though; captain’s orders,” she teases as she slows down just a bit, only to make a point; Gawain gives a muffled groan and his lips lock around her clit, making her squeak and arch up despite her confident act.

A little laugh follows as she grinds down against him, her wetness making a mess of his face; “Heh, you get it—” she gasps again, her grip tightening unconsciously around his shaft and making his hips buck. “That’s good, just like that…” With a roll of her own hips she bends down to draw her tongue along his shaft; his fingernails press into her skin in response, and Djeeta can only give a pleased, breathy hum.

Riding his face as she chases her own release, Djeeta rewards the knight’s efforts with her lips slipping around his cock. It doesn’t take much longer of that steady rhythm, of him licking and sucking and pulling her close, before she gets off with a sharp groan around his dick; she takes him in all the way to the base, his reward, and he follows her lead with a choked-off gasp against her still-trembling cunt. With practiced ease she swallows his release, not one to make a mess (and perhaps she’s just grown fond of the dizzying, bitter taste), then pulls off of his cock with a wet sound.

It takes a moment for her to catch her breath before she gives him room to breathe properly, too; Djeeta looks back to see Gawain flushed and dazed, his lips wet with saliva and slick, an image hot enough that it makes her core throb amid the afterglow of her climax.

“You’re really sexy when you’re a mess like that… just like I’d thought you’d be,” she purrs, and Gawain shudders beneath her as his lips press together into a stern line.

“As if you have room to speak.” And perhaps he has a point; she’s breathing hard, gaze lidded, a little bit of cum dripping from the corner of her lip. Djeeta doesn’t give it pause, flipping around so she can lie down next to him instead; she does, however, at least lick her lips clean.

She reaches over to play with a strand of his hair, her chest rising and falling steadily as she collects herself. In a haze she mumbles about “next time” and “another round”, but she always finds herself getting sleepy after she gets off; before she nods off, though, she swears she sees a rare smile on Gawain’s face, and it makes every bit of her effort way more than worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> s2g the next fill can't get this long or I'll die


End file.
